Heaven Help A Fool Who Falls In Love
by missing-a-place-ive-never-been
Summary: The story of how Clarke got her charcoal in solitary.


The moonrise was beautiful tonight. Phil often choose the longer route to Lockup, taking her past the window with the best view. Something told her to linger a little longer, a thought she had no trouble listening to at all. She had always considered it logical that the moon called to her, seeing how she was named after the second moon of Uranus.

 _Shame I can't turn off the lights, I bet she would look even more beautiful without my silhouette obstructing the view._

Her train of thought was rudely interrupted by the sound of someone approaching her. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a head of slicked-back curls, and instantly recognized him. A small voice in her head popped up and said: _Don't say anything. You can see he's clearly trying to avoid you, looking everywhere except for your direction. Plus, he's been a terrible friend the past couple of months, blowing you of every time you ask him to hang out._ But she decided no, despite him being quite the dick lately, for the sake of their friendship, she would keep trying anyway.

"Bellamy, hi! Did you have the early morning shift?" He stopped walking and, after a hesitant pause, turned to stand next to her at the window. "Yeah, I did." After a small awkward silence he added: "How about you, Ophelia, heading towards work?" Phil cringed at the mention of her full name. It reminded her of times she wasn't quite the person she wanted to be. "I know it's a long shot after asking about a three hundred fourteen times, but please call me Phil?" As long as she had been living next to him, which was coming up to about a year and a half now, Bellamy had refused to call her by her preferred nickname. It was infuriating, but at the same time it showed he still cared about the back-and-forth teasing, which was pretty much the base of their friendship. The moment he starts calling her Phil, she'd knew something was really wrong.

With a look at the clock on the wall behind them, Bellamy answered by avoiding the question completely. "You should really get going then, you've got about five minutes left before the next shift starts and Shumway hates it when someone is late." She reluctantly tore her eyes away from the moon and glanced at the clock with a resenting glare, not wanting this brief conversation to end. She turned to fully face him. The fact that he still knew the guard schedule, told her he still missed the life he used to have.

"Yeah, thanks, I probably should. Do you want to hang out later and watch the game of '99? We never made it to that one." They actually used to spend quite some time together, back when Bellamy's life wasn't turned upside down yet. After that, he pretty much retreated into the room which he had all to himself now.

"I was actually planning on reading a bit, maybe another time?" It wasn't like she hadn't expected it, but it was a disappointment anyway, Phil really did miss their evenings together. She didn't have time to push any further though, time was running short. "Well, I guess I'll see you later then!" With that she hurried away in the direction of Prison Station. While she speed-walked away, a memory bubbled up.

 _They were in her cramped apartment, Bellamy was sitting on her bed with his back against the wall, and she was lying next to him with her head on his lap and her legs in a ninety degrees angle against the adjacent wall. He had just swallowed a shot of moonshine, and she was straight out laughing her head off because he was such a lightweight when it came to booze. They had been playing a drinking game, and even though he had a couple of years on her, he was losing tremendously. She only moved in about a week ago, and little did he know that she had been practising drinking, and pretty much every drinking game known, for the last couple of years. It would take Bellamy almost a year to open up to her, to explain that he simply didn't have time to drink and party, with his whole family situation. If he hadn't been extremely drunk, he probably wouldn't have told her at all. Phil couldn't blame him though, considering the risks it brought. She also had trouble opening up. They finally told each other their background stories when they were about an hour into a new drinking game Bellamy picked up from some of the other cadets. Honesty came so much easier with moonshine as its companion._

Phil's still in the middle of daydreaming when she runs into Shumway. "Change of plans, Frasier, you're on lunch duty till further notice. You'll find the cart in the kitchen." Sighing, she muttered a "Yes, sir", as she grudgingly changed her direction. Nobody wanted lunch duty. It was common knowledge that the fun prisoners got their lunch in the mess hall of Lockup. Lunch duty meant you had to bring lunch and stand watch at solitary. The prisoners there were the ones who weren't allowed to communicate with the others, usually kids who didn't have a prospect beyond their eighteenth birthday. The guards weren't the only ones aware of this, the prisoners themselves knew it all too well. So having to face the inmates who were basically on death row, was, to say the least, a bummer on your day. Of course it's a really crude way of thinking, seeing how the guards weren't the ones with sometimes only days left to live, but could you really blame them? Everyone is influenced by others' mood, and kids with floating as their only prospect didn't quite have the same mood as the prisoners which mostly had a full life ahead of them.

With Bellamy's unwillingness to talk to anyone the last six months in the back of her head, she didn't really pay attention to her job. It didn't require a lot her attention anyway, she just had to put down the hatch in front of the window, look inside to see if the prisoner wasn't in a threatening position, and open the second hatch to slide in the food. After that it was pretty much just standing around, which might be a bit of a simplification, but that's what it comes down to.

It was her first time on lunch duty, and she didn't recognize any of the kids so far, seeing as she was probably three years older than any of the ones she had seen up to now. When she got to the sixth and last one, she didn't really expect to see someone she knew anymore. Phil's hand was already on the window hatch, when she realised she was missing something. This was the first door with no warning of violent behaviour on the hatch. Other reasons of being put into solitary flashed through her head, but in the couple of seconds she had before lingering in front of the door would look strange to the guards standing watch, she couldn't come up with anything that was convincing enough to float a kid.

When she opened the window hatch, the prisoner had their back turned towards her. All she could make out was a messy, blonde bun. After Phil ticked on the window with her finger, the prisoner turned around. At first she couldn't place her, but then, in a flash of recognition, Phil remembered the small blonde.

 _As she entered the mess hall, Phil looked around. Usually there was an empty table she could sit at, but today there were small groups of people scattered around haphazardly. If she didn't want to eat her dinner in the bathroom again, she had to make a friend. After dismissing a couple of tables on account of having to many people around them, she saw a girl sitting at one side of a table, a couple seats apart from a group on the other side. She looked like she wasn't a part of any the groups, so she probably wouldn't mind sitting in silence together._

" _Is it okay if I sit here? No worries, I won't bother you." After looking her up and down, most likely judging her ability to keep her mouth shut, the blonde gave a small nod, so Phil sat down opposite her. Sunk in thought, she wondered how for the love of whatever God she was ever going to be able to get a place away from her parents. In a couple of months she'd finish school, but getting a job on Tesla wasn't what she could see in her future. Her parents were close to the top of the hierarchy on the station she had grown up in, but she had no love for their way of life, nor the station itself. In her opinion, power was great and important and all that, but it wasn't what she wanted to spend her life studying. It was a shame all the jobs on The Ark were about everyone's first needs and simply surviving, instead of something more. No more than logical of course, when surviving in itself cost so much energy, but still, Phil would love to learn more about the galaxy instead of how to maximize solar panels. She didn't want to life out her days the way her parents did, which they didn't take lightly. Changing stations and choosing a different profession was almost unheard of on the Ark, and even though her parents wanted her to be happy, trying to be something else would bring so much troubles and uncertainty. She knew her parents were just trying to shield her from any struggles, but she started to resent them for it._

 _Not paying attention to her surroundings, Phil didn't notice the girl had started doodling in the notebook she had been writing Latin words in moments ago. It was only after the girl exclaimed a quiet, but strong "Fuck!" that she looked up. After she studied the girl with a puzzled gaze, she gave Phil an apologetic look. "I draw so much better with charcoal. Do you even know how hard it is to get your hands on some around here?" She did know. "I have tried to find a harmonica in this tin can, so I actually get the feeling…" With that, they had apparently bonded, because the girl introduced herself as Clarke. They didn't actually talk for the remainder of their lunch, but from then on, when they saw each other in the mess hall, they sat together. It wasn't like she really got to know Clarke, their conversations, usually limited to non-personal topics, but sitting with someone besides herself felt really nice. Even during the lunches when they didn't have a conversation, Phil felt comfortable and relaxed next to Clarke._

 _In the days their schedules prevented them from having lunch together, Phil felt like her day was somehow missing a part. After about a month, she realized she was starting to develop feelings for Clarke. This was new for her, because she never actually had more than a crush on someone, let alone someone she barely knew. On top of that, this was her first actual feelings for a girl, instead of just physical attraction._

 _From the moment she recognized her feelings towards Clarke as falling in love, Phil tried even more than before to really get to know her. The blonde was a master in dodging questions about her personal life though, and no matter how hard she tried, Phil could only make cracks in the walls Clarke had built up. She had picked up that Clarke's parents both had important jobs, but apart from that, nothing jumped out at her._

Memories of those months come back to Phil in a flash. The way she had felt less alone, somehow safer next to Clarke, like she finally belonged somewhere. She also remembered how powerless she had felt when Clarke had suddenly stopped coming to the mess hall. She didn't know anything about her personal life though, so she didn't have any clues to track her down. Luckily she had found her place in Factory Station by then, where Bellamy and moonshine helped her get through her days, but it had still hurt as hell.

If she wasn't mistaken, she saw the same look of recognition on Clarke's face. They locked eyes for what seemed at least an hour, until she was brought back to reality by one of the guards. "Something wrong?" Yes. "No." Phil hurriedly opened the lower hatch and pushed the tray of food into the cell, which Clarke slowly accepted. With a last glance into the room and at the girl who suddenly seemed more lonely than before, much smaller somehow, she reluctantly closed the hatch back up and took her place standing guard.

That evening, Phil found herself alone in her room, staring at a wall. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get Clarke's face out of her mind. Thinking about how alone and horrible solitary must be, even for someone as strong and used to being alone as Clarke, she couldn't even imagine. Fed up with how her mind wouldn't stop racing, she decided to do something she hadn't done in ages. Pulling her skin-tight leggings back on, readjusting her old sweater and grabbing the stash of moonshine, she walked to the front door three down of her own. After hesitating for a small minute and letting possible opening lines run through her head, she took a deep breath and knocked.

Already considering giving up and drinking herself to oblivion on her own, the door opened to reveal a Bellamy who looked like he had just woken up. "I just woke up." _That explains that._ With his brown curls hanging loose in front of his face instead of being slicked back and his eyes still groggy, he suddenly looked three years younger. It was kind of adorable. The look on his face was confused with the subtle touch of annoyance, probably because he had a habit of being a cranky ass for a while after he woke up. She had gathered as much after the times they had woken up in a cramped bed after passing out the night before. "I am in desperate need of a drinking buddy, and before you say anything, I won't accept a 'no' after the crap day I had". Bellamy closed his mouth again after wanting to protest, and after considering it for a while he stepped aside, gesturing her with his hand to come in. "I'll get the cups."

Even though going to Bellamy had seemed like a good idea, when she was actually inside she silently cursed herself for the decision. It had been a full minute, and she still didn't quite know how to start talking. After awkwardly sitting opposite each other like that, which felt like a never-ending hour, Bellamy started talking about his workday. Phil gave him a grateful smile, and for a while they talked about nothing in particular. When she had gotten her courage back and it started to feel like old times again, not without the help of a couple of sips, she finally blurted out the events of her day.

Part of the reason she had been holding back was because she had never actually told Bellamy any details about Clarke. After she had disappeared, Phil's contact with Bellamy had already reduced considerably, seeing as he shut her, and everyone else for that matter, out when Octavia had been discovered. The couple of times they did hang out she kind off resented him for shutting her out while she needed him. Of course she knew her feelings were completely unfair, considering what he was going through, but she couldn't help it. So they just drank without talking, until those nights started being a thing of the past as well.

Looking at her, sitting on his bed with a cup of moonshine (she still knew where to find his stash after they had finished hers), Bellamy couldn't help but stare for a moment. He had missed this. He had missed her. Even though she hadn't sat in that spot for, he guessed, months now, the girl with the dark brown curls and the round glasses too big for her face still fit perfectly in his room. Phil didn't seem to be too sure of that though, as she was anxiously tracing the edge of her cup with her finger without saying a word. While she had come to him, it seemed like she needed a nudge before she would open up. "You won't believe what happened during my coffee break today." She looked up at him with a relieved smile, glad she wasn't the one to have to initiate the conversation.

"So I just don't know what to do now. I can't stop thinking about her, but there's nothing I can do to change any of it." He considered all of it for a moment. Even though they had never done anything, and after everything she was still a friend he never hoped to lose, he couldn't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy. Pushing the feeling away as soon as it came up, his mind started racing with ideas to help her. "Is there a way to show her you have been thinking about her? Maybe smuggle in a small thing you used to share?"

The look on Phil's face was hilarious. Whenever she tried to concentrate while being drunk, she scrounged up her entire face. Bellamy tried stifling his laughter, seeing as this was kind of a serious moment, but it was no use. After he started to chuckle silently, it grew to a full on laugh, and Phil couldn't help but join. In the middle of snorting and giggling over nothing, Phil suddenly exclaimed: "Charcoal!" Bellamy tried to find a connection, but his blurry mind couldn't come up with an explanation, so he just kind of confusingly looked at her. Chuckling at his expressions, she said: "She loved drawing with charcoal, but she usually couldn't get her hands on some. It's small, so I could easily slip it in there with her food. There's just no way anything of mine is valuable enough to trade. If only we hadn't spent so much of our wages on moonshine." She had tried to play it off with a joke and a small smile, but Bellamy could feel this was important to her. "One can only dream. Personally, I miss the caviar and hot-tub every day" In the back of his mind a plan started to form.

With a throbbing headache and her muscles aching, the last thing she wanted to do was face the bright corridors to get to lunch duty. _Drinking the night before a work day, I feel like an alcohol-amateur._ Looking at her alarm clock and noticing she was running late, she got out of bed anyway. After she finished her third glass of water and was about to head out, Phil heard someone knocking on the door. Desperate to stop the pounding on the door, seeing as it continued its pounding in her head, she rushed to the door. She was surprised to find Bellamy standing there, and even more taken aback by the fact he showed no indications of a hangover. "Impressed by the fact I'm not as much of a lightweight as you anymore?" he said with the cocky smirk that was so inherently Bellamy. She hadn't realised how much she had missed it until this moment. "I hope you didn't just stop by to make me feel even worse?" Phil asked while looking up at him.

"No, actually, I came to give you this." He grabbed her left hand and made her hold it up, while with his other hand put something small in it. Smiling at the way her eyes widened as she saw the black piece of charcoal, he told her he traded his mom's old sowing tools for it. Not fully processing what that meant, Phil threw her arms around Bellamy's neck and enveloped him in a hug. After lingering a millisecond too long, she stepped back and it hit her. He had traded the last physical tokens of his mom. "Bellamy, no, I can't accept this. It's too much, those where the last things you had of her. I know how much they mean to you." His smile did not fully reach his eyes, which had a kind of sadness to them, but he reassured them he would not have traded them if he didn't think it was important. "Plus, I never would have found the time to make you that matching lingerie set anyway. What else would I have used them for?" Bursting out in laughter, she remembered she was already late for work. She gave Bellamy one last quick hug and the promise that the next few evenings of moonshine were on her. Looking over her shoulder at him, hoping her eyes expressed the gratitude she couldn't put into words at the moment, she half walked, half ran to Prison Station's kitchen for her shift.


End file.
